


cruel with indifference and expectations

by jakia



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, M/M, but not acted upon, character death but no worries he'll come back, episode 97 spoilers, like major ones, thoughtful threats of violence against a teenager
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 09:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22967377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakia/pseuds/jakia
Summary: The Bright Queen does find him again, eventually.500 years after the Mighty Nein save Essek's soul, he has a conversation with his former queen. One shot. Episode 97 spoilers.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, leylas kryn & essek thelyss
Comments: 16
Kudos: 431





	cruel with indifference and expectations

**Author's Note:**

> Elves live for so *long*, man.

The Bright Queen does find him, eventually.

Her name is not Leylas anymore; he forgets what it is, as disconnected as he is from the Dynasty he called home so long ago. 450 some odd years he’s been away from politics, and he’d prefer to keep it that way, if he’s being honest.

Still, old habits die hard; he bows as he opens his tower door for her. “Your majesty,” he says, with a courtesy tilt of his head, the same thing he used to do as Shadowhand when he had to address her. “What brings you to my abode?”

It’s odd; she’s younger than him now, though still a drow in this new life, and her hair is short, a cute little pixie cut, even if she is the Bright Queen still. She tilts her head at him and steps through the threshold.

“You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” She asks him, her eyes light and brighter than he remembers. “Still Essek Thelyss, I see.”

“Widogast,” he corrects, the wedding ring still tight on his finger, even though Caleb has been dead for a few years now. 

It’s fine, though. He will be back again. He just has to wait, _again_. 

The Bright Queen scrunches her face, puzzled by memory until the thought occurs to her. “Oh. The human wizard, from the Empire. You married him?”

He laughs at her, an act he would not have been able to manage centuries ago, when he was still in her service. “Where did you think I ran off to?”

“Well, it was reported to me that you were  _ dead _ , so for the most part I just assumed…” She shakes her head. “The Mighty Nein were  _ most _ convincing.”

He wasn’t present for their theatrics, but he did spend years traveling with them, and he knows how they can be. How they were, at least. “Tea?” He offers, gesturing to a seat nearby. “I’ve not had a guest in a while; forgive the mess. My husband was much better at making me keep things tidy.”

At his feet, one of the kittens--he forgets this one’s name, because she’s a fairly new addition to the Widogast clan--curls around his feet and purrs. He kneels down to pick her up, cooing at her as he does so.

“Just like that?” The Bright Queen asks. “You betray my country, fake your death for several centuries, and then invite me for tea? How do you know I am not here to kill you?”

“You did not bring any guards with you,” he points out plainly, a cantrip readying a fire for tea. “And you are in  _ my  _ home,” he reminds her gently. “You were never stupid, Leylas.”

“Zilvra,” she corrects him now, taking a seat in what used to be Caleb’s armchair, before. It’s funny; his husband was not a large man, and did not take up a lot of space, but compared to the tiny drow teenager in his chair he seems retroactively like a giant, for all the chair engulfs her. “And you are right. I did not come here to bring you harm. I apologize.”

“It is already forgiven,” he brushes her off. The water begins to boil, and so he removes the heat and begins to put some tea leaves in cups. It’s a strange but interesting blend, one of Caduceus’s, and he’s running a little low on it now. A mollymauk, if he remembers correctly what Caduceus called it. “Why did you come?”

“Would you believe me if I said curiosity?” Leyl-- _ Zilvra _ , he corrects himself, says quietly, a shy little turn of her head. “I heard rumors of a hidden magic school, in a place far from the influences of both the Dynasty and the Empire. When I heard your name in passing, I just had to see if you were the same man.”

He pours two cups of tea, one for her and one for himself. On his shoulder, the kitten plays with his earring. He passes a cup to Zilvra before taking a seat in his own chair. “You are awfully young to be travelling alone, your majesty.”

“My tutors are so terribly  _ boring _ ,” she complains, her voice young and whiny, and he feels ancient in that moment, far older than his 570 years give him credit for. “Besides, you aren’t going to hurt me.”

He could, though. It would be easy enough to do. She is here in his home, on his turf. For years, a long time ago, all he wanted to do was hurt her, hated her in ways he could not formulate into words.

He’s not that person anymore, though, even if he does still inhabit the same body. So she is right; he isn’t going to hurt her, even if the idea is mildly tempting, in the same way all science is tempting, the want to do something just to see if he can.

Besides: he does not want her reborn in the village not far from here; she’d  _ definitely  _ know about his hidden beacon then, and he’d prefer to keep it out of the Dynasty’s hands for a few more centuries, at least until Caleb finally comes back as something more long-lived.

“Why are you here then, Zilvra?” He asks again, hoping for a different answer.

“I guess I just wanted to try and understand  _ why _ ,” she says, her voice full of curiosity and wonder. She’d make a wonderful student, he thinks suddenly. “You were my adviser. My left-hand. My shadow. And then you  _ died _ , supposedly, and then later I learned you betrayed me not once but  _ twice  _ by giving the Empire the Beacons, and I just want to know  _ why _ . Were we cruel to you? You had a home. A job. A family. Your mother mourned you, you know? Why did you do it?”

What can he say to her? That living in the Dynasty wasn’t really living? That he didn’t  _ care  _ about anyone there? That his mother must have cried at his funeral but they were empty tears, the same sort of show she cried at his father’s funeral? That the Dynasty was, in fact, cruel to him? Cruel with indifference and expectations, the way they thought he was supposed to grow up when he was still so  _ terribly  _ young? That he stifled under a religion he did not believe in that was forced down his throat until treason seemed to be the only relief available? That she required him, practically a child back then, to be in charge of  _ torture  _ and  _ espionage? _

That the kindest thing she ever did to him was assign him to the be the Mighty Nein’s liaison?

He takes a sip of his tea. “It’s a bit of a long story,” he says quietly, setting his tea cup down. Gingerly, the kitten hops from his shoulder to his lap, purring contently. “How long do you think we have before your people show up?”

She crosses her legs underneath her in Caleb’s too-big chair. “An hour, at least,” she says, looking up at him, eager for knowledge. 

He folds his hands underneath his chin. “How much do you remember about the Mighty Nein?”

“Not a lot. Mostly what my tutors tell me. Leylas didn’t interact with them too much, and after the peace talks and, well,  _ your death _ , they didn’t come by as often,” Zilvra explains. “Why?”

“Then let me tell you about how they saved my soul, then.” He says softly, quietly, petting the kitten and relaxing in his home, still so far removed from the life he lived, once.


End file.
